… "Beyond Eastrod": Emily Dickinson's "From Blank to Blank--" helps me advance rather than stop and perish within the labyrinth of life.
Methinks the poem is about the realization that our understanding is incapable of fully grasping the mystery of things.
Some people, I think, Frank, do grasp the mystery of things; I sort of think that William Blake and Emily Dickinson are among those "blessed" souls, but they could not -- in spite of their efforts -- adequately explain those mysteries to people. I am reminded of the rhetoric of Christ's parables: comprehended only by those who have the capacity to believe and understand. Of course, I could be quite wrong.
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